


Until the Universe Rips Itself Apart

by smallfriendlybee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lie Low At Lupin's (Harry Potter), M/M, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallfriendlybee/pseuds/smallfriendlybee
Summary: 'Dumbledore had told Sirius to “lie low at Lupin’s.” Had said to stay there until everything blows over. Of course, he meant the war. Sirius wouldn’t be able to leave until the war was over and his name was cleared. Not that Remus minded, of course. He had loved this man.'





	Until the Universe Rips Itself Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Who's ready for some A N G S T ? ! ?
> 
> There is a hopeful ending, though. So you're going to suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Dumbledore had told Sirius to “lie low at Lupin’s.” Had said to stay there until everything blows over. Of course, he meant the war. Sirius wouldn’t be able to leave until the war was over and his name was cleared. Not that Remus minded, of course. He had loved this man.

But the man trudging a half-step behind him up the path to Remus’s home, shoulders bowed with the weight of pain and terror and his responsibility for Harry (Remus felt the weight of that one, too), eyes hooded, afraid to make loud noises or step where he shouldn’t- this wasn’t the Sirius Remus knew. This wasn’t the boy he’d fallen in love with, fallen so fast and so far that he couldn’t think of anything else now but the way his fingers felt as they carded through Sirius’s long, silky hair; and the way he laughed, loud and tinged with love and all at once; the way they’d kissed, slowly at first, gently, then faster, because there was a war on and they didn’t have time to be sweet and slow and tender when all of that could be whisked away in a moment.

And then it had been. And Remus was alone.

He’d been alone for so many years that he couldn’t begin to guess how to live with this man now. How to fit together the way they had then, in their cheap little London flat when everything was perfect, despite the war.

They stood at the front door, dusk light fast fading. Remus unlocked it and ushered the man in, watching Sirius glance around at the small, grungy shack and step off to the side of the doorway, back against the wall. He moved with meticulous, weary care, afraid to step on something or break something or-

He looked so old. But they were old, now. It had been fourteen years.

Remus closed the door and slipped his shoes, striding into the adjacent kitchen. After a moment’s hesitation, Sirius followed, his fists opening and closing at his sides. Remus busied himself, taking out dishes and a nearly-empty carton of eggs, to make them both something to eat.

Sirius stood behind the counter, his deadened, sunken eyes following Remus around the tiny room. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Can- can I help?” His voice was low and hoarse from disuse. It was obvious that he’d been holding a front together around Harry. Of course he had- hadn’t they all put out their strongest fronts for Harry? And now his godson wasn’t around, Sirius let the facade drop.

Not long ago he’d been rotting in that Azkaban cell. Sirius didn’t let Harry see it, but Remus could see it. “There isn’t really much to do,” he told Sirius hesitantly. Sirius’s face fell. Despair battled agony on his features, and Remus realized with a pang of guilt that he probably wanted, needed to be busy with something. To keep the memories away. Once upon a time he would have known exactly how to distract him. Once upon a time, he knew this hollowed out shell when he still resembled something living, knew him inside and out, better than he knew himself. 

But that had been years ago, before they were thrown into a fighting ring with feral wolves and told to survive longer than the ‘other side’, whoever that was. Everything was different now. “Actually,” Remus said, and it came out choked and blunt. He cleared his throat awkwardly and motioned towards the sink, full of days-old dishes that he’d been too stressed to clean. “If you don’t mind, the dishes haven’t been washed in awhile…”

Sirius dipped his head silently, relief softening his harsh, weathered gray eyes. He went to the sink and plugged it, filling it with hot water. Steam curled into the air, caressing the edges of Sirius’s face, softening the gauntness into something more human. Remus watched him moving slowly, methodically, grasping one dirty plate at a time and lowering it into the water. So different from his old self. But Remus supposed he himself was different, too. Older and a bit grayer, jobless, and worn from hard times. Certainly not someone to fall in love with, even if they had been in love with him before.

He turned away and immersed himself in making a meal, trying to ignore how he knew exactly how Sirius liked it best. Eggs (scrambled), buttered toast (barely even toasted at all), a few lucky strips of bacon (burnt nearly to a crisp). Sandwiches would have been easier. But they needed something warm, something to burn some feeling other than hopelessness back into their souls. It wasn’t a proper dinner, but it was also the only good food Remus had in his house, so they would have to make do. He figured it was at least better than whatever they’d fed the prisoners in Azkaban.

Remus was so lost in thought that he forgot what he was doing, and the plate of cooked bacon he was holding slipped through his fingers. He winced as the sound of shattering china broke the loaded silence between them and spun to stare at Sirius, who had jumped at the noise and gotten soapy water all over himself. Sirius’s eyes were wide with panic, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Shit,” muttered Remus before he could stop himself. He reached out a hand towards the man, grimacing at his clumsiness. “I’m sorry, Sirius. Are you alright?”

Sirius exhaled slowly and nodded, pointing at Remus’s feet. “Don’t move. I’ll fetch a broom.”

“In the cabinet by the bottom of the staircase,” Remus called as Sirius quickly left the room. He stepped carefully over the remains of the plate and scooped up the pieces of bacon, dumping them in the bin under the sink. His stomach twisted. He hated wasting food, but he didn’t want to risk eating a shard of glass.

“Idiot,” said Sirius from the doorway. His tone sounded so much like the one Remus remembered from their teen years, a mix of exasperation and affection, that he glanced over at him sharply, eyebrows raised. Sirius walked into the kitchen holding a broom and a dustpan and knelt by Remus’s feet, sweeping the broken china up. “I told you not to move.”

“Since when have I ever listened to you?” Remus responded with a small smile.

Sirius shook his head. “What startled you enough to drop it? You aren’t clumsy.” He stood and emptied the dustpan into the bin. How he knew where everything was, Remus had no clue.

Remus didn’t answer, instead pushing the plate of eggs and toast he’d made toward Sirius. He made another, smaller plate for himself, and sat at one of two stools behind the counter. Sirius joined him at the other.

“Switch with me,” said Sirius suddenly. Remus furrowed his brows. “I mean plates,” he clarified. “I can’t really handle large portions yet. Better that it goes to someone who can keep it down.” Sirius gave Remus a tight smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes as he swapped their plates.

They ate in silence. Sirius took small, controlled bites, obviously restraining himself from scarfing the meal down. Remus slowed his own pace to match. He didn’t know if that would make Sirius feel any more comfortable, but if it had even a small chance of helping…

Remus dumped their plates in the sink when they finished. The two men spent the rest of the night in silence, Sirius doing odd jobs around the house to keep busy, Remus twiddling his thumbs and avoiding getting in his way.

It wasn’t until late that night, after they had each showered and Remus had gotten his couch ready for a guest, that they spoke again.

“Why don’t you say anything?” Sirius asked out of the blue. He was standing in the open doorway of Remus’s bedroom, a hand clenched on the frame as if holding himself back from entering.

Remus stared at him. “What?”

“I always thought… you’d have questions, when the dust settled. You always have questions.” Sirius swallowed. “About- James and Lily, and Peter, and- and Azkaban.”

Remus sank onto the bed beside him, suddenly exhausted. “I suppose… I thought you wouldn’t care to be asked. I didn’t want to force you into anything.” He glanced up, gave Sirius a small, wry smile. He couldn’t make it reach his eyes, thought. “After all, we’re not what we used to be, are we? The days when we told each other everything…” He wished they could, he wanted to so badly-

Sirius took a step closer. His skin was nearly translucent. Remus could see many more veins than was normal. It was mildly concerning. “I still feel the same way about you, Remus. I know we’ve changed. And I know- God, I know I don’t deserve anything from you, after everything that happened. Not after what I did.” His voice cracked, and Remus felt his fingers trembling at the raw emotion in his eyes. “But I can’t help but love you. I never could.”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Sirius…” Tell Sirius how he felt, take a risk, and either fly or fall. Or play it safe and push him away. Push him away like he’d pushed so many people throughout his life, and not get hurt, but keep that gaping rip in his soul where Sirius used to be, the rip that tore more every day they were apart, leaving Remus lost and empty and alone again. It wasn’t much of a choice.

He’d never been given much of a choice, when it came to Sirius.

Remus met his eyes, then, and Sirius stared desperately back at him with a mixture of guarded hope and dread. His expression reminded Remus of how he used to look at Regulus in their younger years, when they were first beginning to drift apart. And Remus realized with all the clarity in the world that he knew, for the first time in his life, exactly what he wanted, and that was to spend as much time as he was given with the man in front of him, and try to mend the broken parts, and stand for each other when one of them couldn’t.

“I have loved you every second of every day since before we were even dating,” Remus said. Sirius’s eyes glimmered with hope. He opened his mouth, but Remus held up a hand to halt him. “There’s something I need to say.” He took a deep breath. “We are not the same people we were when we were twenty. You’ve been through hell, and I’ve gotten old and gray and boring. But maybe it’s a good thing we’ve changed, because I don’t think I could fall in love with the teenage you right now. And you couldn’t fall in love with teenage me, either. We were young and naive and the war was only just beginning.

“But I love you still, the way you are now, the way we’ve grown to be with and without each other. I will love you until the universe rips itself apart, Sirius, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it, and nothing I’d want to do. Because I am in love with you, and I love being in love with you. Even though these past fourteen years have torn me apart.” Something hot trickled down his cheek, and Remus realized he was crying. He wiped the tear away impatiently. “I’m willing to give us a try again. It will take time. We’ve grown apart. But I don’t think there will be anyone I love as much as I love you.”

Sirius was crying, too, now, shoulders shaking with silent gasps. “You’re the only thing that got me through. I kept myself from thinking about you unless I was Padfoot, because otherwise they’d t-take you from me, and if they did I swear I would have gone insane or killed myself or both.” He reached out a shaking, bony hand. “Moons- Remus, please-”

Remus went to him, slipping his arms around him, and it felt natural and perfect and right, to be doing this, to be holding each other. He was so immersed in how beautiful it felt that he forgot for a moment that Sirius was still crying.

With a glimmer of alarm, he pulled back, taking Sirius’s shaking hands and leading him to the bed. Sirius sat and put his head in his hands, his body jerking with horrible, gut-wrenching sobs.

“Oh, Sirius,” murmured Remus, running his fingers over Sirius’s knuckles. He grasped his hands and gently pulled them away from his face. “I’m so sorry, Pads. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius released a strangled laugh. “W-what for?”

“I thought… I really thought you did it. Not at first,” he clarified at the look on Sirius’s face, “but after ten or so years, I was tired of fighting the current. I was so tired, Sirius. I gave up on you. And I’m sorry.”

“God, Remus, no. I gave you every reason to think I did it,” Sirius said, scrubbing at his face. “We are just a couple of old sob stories, aren’t we?”

Despite himself, Remus laughed. And it felt so good, so light, that he did it again. After a moment Sirius chuckled too, and a hint of that old light came to life in his eyes, transforming dusty, empty gray to a vibrant sea after sunset. Remus touched Sirius’s cheek, brushing a stray tear away, and leaned in to tenderly and swiftly kiss where the tear had been. Then he pulled away, cheeks flaming. Sirius probably didn’t want to be moving so quickly, not after everything.

Sirius snorted. “Do it like you mean it, coward.”

Remus glanced up in surprise just as Sirius put his hands on either side of his face, leaned in, and kissed him thoroughly. Remus tangled his fingers in Sirius’s hair before he quite knew what he was doing and deepened the kiss. Their bodies wound around each other almost of their own accords, and they fit. Not the way they used to, but in a new way, a different way. When they came up for air, they were both panting heavily.

If Remus’s face wasn’t beet red before, it definitely was now.

And then Sirius did something even more astonishing, and grinned. Full, ear-to-ear, twinkling grin, like he used to, and it didn’t chase away all the shadows in his eyes or even most of them, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t a start. Remus’s heart soared. “It’s been, what- eighteen years?- and I can still make you blush. Guess I’ve still got my good looks.”

Remus scoffed. “Sirius, you look like the Bloody Baron.”

“I always said he was devastatingly handsome,” Sirius sniped back, and there it was. That shining sense of humor hadn’t been lost to the dementors after all. 

The bed on the couch that Remus had so carefully made up wasn’t used that night. Instead, they shared Remus’s, sharing warmth in body and soul. And as he drifted off to a peaceful sleep with Sirius’s steady breathing beside him and their fingers intertwined, Remus thought that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work again.


End file.
